I don't know if we're ever truly ready to stop hiding. It's like those mornings when you say aloud, "Get up, Amy," over and over because nothing else is going to spring you from bed.
Coming out of hiding necessitates the same impulse, the same self-talk (though not self-discipline--I think that harsh taskmaster and I have parted ways for good...talk about an unequal relationship...).
Don't get me wrong--being seen is, can be, terrifying. But if we all chose to be seen, to be transparent, where's the fear? And how distributed the power?
Last night I dreamt that I was walking through some foreign city, naked, and neither the nakedness nor the foreignness bothered me.
So. There's that.